


Gauntlet

by emmish



Series: Odyssey [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A Royal wedding, Anxiety, Ballroom, Banter, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Boys In Love, Champagne, Cheering Up, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Communication, Dirty Talk, Dressing Room Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Formalwear, Four-poster Bed, Imperfections, Insecurity, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Parties, Playful Sex, Praise, Public Speaking, Romance, Roses, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Sensory Deprivation, Social Anxiety, Stoic Ignis, The Banter Begins, The Citadel, Wet & Messy, Wild Sex, all dressed up, bad language, blindfold, body issues, boys in suits, fiances, proud dad, puns, sweet and sexy, tipsy sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-01-26 01:43:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21366109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmish/pseuds/emmish
Summary: Prompto experiences the trials and tribulations of being engaged to a Prince.Part 5 of the Odyssey series.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Odyssey [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1211178
Comments: 30
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Speedofsound60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speedofsound60/gifts).

> Gifted to SpeedofSound60, who gave me the first prompt for this series over a year ago!  
Hope you all enjoy :3

“I don't think this is a good idea, Noct.”

“You already said that.”

“Doesn't make it any less true! Ah man, I need the bathroom again.”

“You just went. I know you're just gonna try and escape through a window or something.”

“No, seriously! When I'm nervous my bladder goes into overdrive.”

“There's nothing to be nervous about. I'm here, I love you, and I'm gonna look after you. You debating that?” Noctis asked conspiratorially, as he continued to adjust his fiancé's outfit, a pristine scarlet suit with a steel-grey shirt and black accessories. Prompto's sharp-pointed black boots were glossed to perfection, the patent leather winking distractedly in the relatively dim light and soft silence.

“I never said that I doubted that! I just said that I'm going to die.”

The Prince sniggered to himself, patting down his partner's lapels. “It's gonna be fun. I told you things would be a bit different after we got engaged. This is one of those things. And trust me, this is a _little_ party, something to ease you in gently. Some of the ones I've been to were so big you could lose a Chocobo in the crowd for the freakin' _snack_ table.”

“You are _Noct_ helping!” Prompto groaned, his voice tight and high with agitation. He glanced around the very spacious, low-ceilinged dressing room. They were alone, and amidst soft, flattering lighting and plush furnishings, the blond was buzzing with an unpleasant and painfully-familiar nervousness. It was early evening, and in an hour, they would descend to the main ballroom of the Citadel from their current location on one of the upper floors, not far from Noctis' old bedroom. It was quiet, but Prompto was sure he could hear the very faintest piped music just within his senses. Then again, his senses were so frazzled with nerves that it could well be a hallucination helped along by the sound of his own frantic blood and thumping heartbeat, rushing in his ears.

“You're calm enough to make puns, so I believe you can do it. Remember, Iggy and Gladio will be there too. Besides, you look incredible. You're gonna be the envy of everybody there.”

“I would prefer it if people _didn't_ look at me,” the blond whined anxiously. “Can't you just...disguise me as a waiter or something? If you really need me to see what these charity-dance-whatever-things are like, I can do it incognito, and I won't embarrass you, _and_ you won't have to answer people's questions about why your plus-one is so useless and common.”

“Firstly, you're not my _plus-one,”_ Noct tutted_. “_You're my fiancé. We've been engaged for months and everybody there tonight is privy to that information, so there's no need to pretend we're not together, okay? You're gonna be my husband – Prince Consort, and I intend to show you off to the max. Plus Dad gets to see you again. You know we haven't had a chance to have a proper meeting with him yet.”

Prompto nodded weakly, letting out an almost comically-massive exhale; it was clear he was not feeling much happier about the situation.

“I don't even know how to dance or anything,” the blond shrugged, eyes down and his bottom lip impressively petulant. Noctis eyed the pouting mouth in question, and quenched its anguish with a quick, sweet kiss.

“I told you, it's nothing like that. People are only gonna dance if they get drunk. It's not that formal. It's a charity thing, we're just trying to raise awareness with some rich princesses and lords and stuff. We don't have to do any dancing, I'm just gonna do my little speech and then we schmooze a bit. Alright? I'll teach you how to dance sometime soon, though. I'm actually pretty good at it when I can be assed to make an effort,” Noct smirked.

The blond made a little, haphazard noise of assent, before he was seized in a harder kiss, finding himself shoved back against the luxurious red damask wall. The breath thudded from his lungs when the brunette pushed up crushingly against him, feasting on his mouth for a few delicious and breathless seconds.

“...Shit, Noct,” Prompto managed to wheeze in relief when his lips were released, only to find himself pinned by a dangerously-intense stare and tight hands on his hips.

“We've officially been having sex for over a year now,” the Prince muttered out of the blue, doing a good job of crowding the blond, even though their height and build were nearly identical. His predatory, inscrutable gaze demanded an answer to his non-sequitur.

“I, uh...well yeah, I know. Halloween handjobs,” Prompto replied with a nervous chuckle. “...Right now?” he replied in shocked realisation, his voice a coarse whisper despite their isolation. The nearest staff member was probably a hundred yards away, and there was a centuries-old, sturdy wooden door with a locked deadbolt separating them.

“Why not?” Noctis shrugged challengingly.

“I...I feel kinda...uncomfortable is all,” Prompto sighed. “I don't feel very hot like this,” he nodded down at himself mournfully. He was stunned, and then indignant, when Noctis laughed warmly.

“Prom. You have got to be kidding.” The Prince's grey-blue eyes were merry with amusement, his pale face crinkled in a fond smile.

“Dude, stop laughing at me,” Prompto huffed. “Hey!” he yelped, when his fiancé abruptly grabbed his arm and pulled him to the nearest wall mirror, floor-length and sparklingly-clean. It was bordered with sleek, jet-coloured fluted designs, mimicking the architecture prevalent throughout the Palace. Noctis twisted him gently to face the mirror, standing behind him and planting his chin on the blond's shoulder so that he could join the appraisal.

“Not that you don't always look hot,” the brunette began, his voice a husky murmur, “but I've never seen you look more stunning than right now.”

“Aw man, no way. You _belong_ in this sort of stuff. I don't. Look at you, with your collarbones like freakin'...machetes,” Prompto rambled forlornly. He gestured vaguely at the Prince's outfit, a snugly-fitted gunmetal-grey suit over a silvery shirt. He pointedly avoided looking at his own reflection; his eyes, somehow simultaneously dark and bright blue, frowned down at the floor.

Noctis let out a brief but determined sigh of aggravation, and merely pushed his hips forward a little, nudging his half-hard cock against the immaculate tailoring of his fiancé's suit.

“You. Look. Amazing,” the Prince whispered into the muffled stillness of the oversized closet. He hooked an arm around the blond to tilt his pointed chin up, giving him a quick, affectionate tweak with his thumb as he did. With his other hand, he gave the ring on Prompto's finger a playful twiddle.

Noctis had been prepared for this. Ever since he had known Prompto, long before they were engaged or even lovers, he was aware of the other man's propensity for low self-esteem, anxiety, catastrophising and body image issues. Noct's words of comfort or sternness had never served to fully cure the blond's stigmas, only placate them for a while, and he certainly didn't expect this to change, now or in the future. Indeed, their marriage would inevitably create entirely new situations for Prompto to stress about.

Noct loved Prompto for exactly what he was, and had no expectation for him to change as part of some future requisite of their relationship. Hoping that your partner would one day be a different or better person wasn't the best foundation for a marriage. Still, he wished sometimes that Prompto wasn't so blinkered by his depressive episodes that he routinely failed to see his own immense worth. More than anything else in the world, Noct wanted his partner to be happy.

Now, the Prince kissed the exposed, lightly-freckled skin of Prompto's throat repeatedly, giving him little bumps with his hips to keep him informed of his increasing state of arousal.

“I wish you believed me,” Noctis whispered, nuzzling into his partner's soft hairline and into the junction of his neck and shoulder. He was gratified to hear a faint moan which vibrated through the fair skin he was worshipping.

“...I'll admit you did a good job with this suit. I thought there'd be servants here to dress me up,” Prompto said peacefully.

“Well, I wanted the pleasure all to myself. I've been doing this stuff since I was a kid. I'm kind of a pro at it now,” Noct told him smugly. “...I'm looking forward to having you with me tonight for the first time. It'll be a million times more bearable.”

The blond took a deep breath and sighed it out when the Prince continued to nip at his throat, lightly enough not to leave any tell-tale marks. Noctis spoke up once more as something occurred to him.

“Hey, last Halloween you thought you looked hot, right? In your soldier outfit? How is this any different?” the brunette chuckled.

“Ah, that was just drunken messing about with my bros. This is totally not the same, having strangers who literally own whole countries judging my sorry ass.”

“These people aren't gods, you know. They're no different from me - just a loser who happens to have a crown,” Noctis laughed. “They've got the same hang-ups and are just as lame and boring as anybody else. Don't let them intimidate you.” He hummed against Prompto's jugular vein and made a small questioning sound that was ostentatiously innocent. “Can I do something for you? Please?”

Prompto huffed out a breathless laugh, raising one hand to ruffle Noct's hair. “When you say 'please,' I get worried.”

“Oh?” Noctis shrugged, rocking his fiancé playfully in his arms.

“Yeah, 'cos it's so rare,” the blond teased.

“Harsh,” the Prince groaned, biting a little harder and getting a faint mewl for his efforts.

“Harsh but true, dude.”

“I only say please when it's something I really want,” Noct offered hopefully.

“That's what worries me,” Prompto laughed. “Okay, what did you have in mind?”

Noctis snuffled a little laugh, before manoeuvring so that he stood in front of Prompto, between him and the mirror. With enviable grace, the Prince got onto his knees and splayed his hands beseechingly across the placket of the blond's trousers.

“I won't go deep,” Noct promised, and they both grinned wryly at the unspoken acknowledgement of what Noctis was saying. After an incident where Prompto had been brought to tears after a traumatising coupling, they were both learning to be as transparent as possible when communicating their desires. Prompto couldn't handle being deep-throated, and Noctis had forsaken his desire to do so in order to make sure his best friend had the best experience possible.

“I swear, Noct, if you make a mess on my pretty suit...”

“Oh, so _now_ you think it's pretty?” Noctis smirked as he slowly opened the button and zip in front of him, the expensive red material tellingly soft and sleek.

“The suit is perfect. It's just been put on completely the wrong person,” Prompto giggled.

“Shh,” the Prince chided him again, tapping him gently on the hip. “I'll swallow. No mess, promise,” he offered, criss-crossing a forefinger playfully over his own heart.

“...You wanna try a 69?” the blond asked conspiratorially, and Noctis paused, before grinning up at his fiancé. It was something they hadn't yet attempted. The door was locked and they were guaranteed privacy, but he had his doubts.

“Maybe later when there's more time. And a bed. Besides, I don't think I could concentrate enough to do it right.”

“Sex god Noct, can't do two things at once,” the blond teased fondly, stroking through the Prince's baby-soft hair.

“Nope,” the brunette admitted easily, pulling down the layers of material in front of him and groaning appreciatively at the warm, flaccid flesh that greeted him. “Try watching in the mirror,” he suggested, before taking Prompto's tip into his mouth, the weight and heat of it comforting. He suckled gently, using one hand to circle the base, his own sighs of bliss entirely unconscious. His grip was relatively loose, knowing that his partner was unusually sensitive to firm or prolonged pressure.

“Gods, Noct...your mouth's amazing...so soft and wet,” Prompto murmured vaguely, fingers raking across his fiancé's scalp. He heard Noctis snort faintly with amusement and then continue at a sedate but intoxicating pace, careful never to go so deep that he gagged, knowing how upsetting Prompto found it.

It didn't take long for Prompto to become fully hard, insistently-solid and burning hot inside Noct's mouth. After a couple of self-conscious minutes, the blond bravely looked up at the mirror to watch himself getting blown, and the resultant image caused him to groan, loud and helpless. The Prince was kneeling submissively before him, his fine dark hair bouncing with every squelching suck as his head bobbed back and forth. One of Noct's slippery hands was pumping his cock rhythmically, the other had grabbed his ass and was squeezing hard.

Letting his mouth fall open to take in much-needed oxygen, Prompto panted and seethed out little noises as he tried not to rock against his partner or pull his hair too tightly. The snug warmth of the dressing room was becoming stifling, and the slick, sloppy gulping sounds as Noct worked were deafening in the peaceful silence.

The blond was enduring urgent throbs of need, which demanded faster stimulation, harder effort, enough pressure and speed and will to tip him over the edge. Noct wordlessly knew and obliged, familiar now with the telltale signs in his lover's body that warned of an impending orgasm. Prompto's voice was broken and the cries he forced out were getting louder, more unrestrained. His lean, muscled thighs trembled hard and his whole body twitched and jerked as he fought to stay standing upright, his hands now planted very firmly on the brunette's scalp, fingers raking painfully.

Noctis' face was bright red, his eyes closed tight and hidden under his bedraggled fringe, his inhales and exhales guttural and ugly as he felt Prompto's violent shudders, the blond's knees almost buckling. The Prince's slick fist, which had been jerking with furious speed, eased a little so that Noct could pull back with a sticky gasp of air. His jaw wide, he directed the glossy wet head of his fiancé's prick against his tongue. Prompto looked down hazily, frowning with the exhaustion of pleasure, and saw the brunette use his free hand to palm himself through his trousers, shivering and sobbing faintly with obvious delight.

Noctis actually came first, whimpering and sweating and grabbing himself roughly through expensive cloth that rapidly soaked through with his hot seed. With dizzy, drunken determination, the Prince kept his jaw wide as he kept working Prompto, managing not to accidentally bite down through his powerful aftershocks. He wobbled precariously on his knees until the blond finally spurted into his mouth, coating his tongue with globs of musky fluid, which he obediently swallowed. Prompto threw his head back with a hard yell and tumultuous, full-body quivers, struggling not to collapse.

When the mind-numbing pulses of his orgasm had mostly faded, Prompto sank weakly against his partner, and Noctis managed to catch his waist with a hoarse chuckle. While the blond panted and wheezed, the Prince took the opportunity to do his trousers back up for him with shaky fingers, leaving him clean and comparatively unrumpled. He, on the other hand, winced at the cooling semen that he was slick with, and he stood up with a grimace, wiping the saliva from his chin.

“You okay?” the brunette asked, as Prompto coughed and straightened up once more. “Hopefully you're more relaxed now,” he sniggered.

“Mm-hm, damn! That was sweet,” the freckled blond laughed warmly, covering his face with his hands in a brief show of embarrassment. “Shit, looks like you can multi-task after all,” he added, nodding to the damp spot on Noct's suit.

“Yeah, I got kinda carried away...shit,” the Prince agreed, clearing his throat and biting his pale lip. “This place has like two hundred suits. There's gotta be more pants here that are the same colour. No-one will know.”

* * *

Ignis was calmly adjusting his jade cufflinks outside the ballroom in the narrow foyer of a private side entrance, waiting for the engaged couple. Without checking his pocket watch, he knew that Noctis and Prompto were passably punctual when he saw them trotting down the lofty, glossy black hallway hand-in-hand. The Prince was slightly in front and pulling upon the blond's hand, as Prompto fidgeted and fussed with his own suit, looking anxious.

“Hey Specs, we on time?” the Prince asked, looking like he had dragged Prompto at high speed the whole way.

“Fashionably so,” the advisor smirked, appraising them both. “They're going to - ”

He paused and frowned slightly at Noct's suit, which to him, looked as if it was comprised of two similar but notably different shades of grey. It wasn't entirely a bad look, but...Ignis opened his mouth to question what had happened to the outfit that had been pre-arranged, but when his attention was drawn to the abrupt flush that flooded Prompto's cheeks and the belligerent raised eyebrow of the Prince, he decided against his question.

“Are you both prepared?” he asked beneficently instead. “Everyone's ready for you.” Behind him, beyond oppressively-statuesque black doors, a distinct buzz and chatter of a large unseen crowd revealed that the ball was indeed in full swing.

Noctis flashed a dangerous grin at his fiancé, who looked like he was going to pass out.

“Let's do this thing.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #howdoiroyal #ihavenoideawhatimdoing #speechifying

Ignis nodded to the Prince and his fiancé, and pulled down on the solid metal door handle, the incomprehensibly-heavy door swinging ponderously. An immediate and frightening cacophony of claps and (to Prompto's surprise) cheers welcomed them, making the blond's ears ring painfully. He sucked in his thready inhales through his teeth, feeling a lump of fear in his throat that choked him.

Noct turned to him as Ignis strode coolly into the brightly-lit ballroom, whose vaulted, draughty ceiling was so far above the heads of the attendant guests that the details of the carved angelic designs were nearly imperceptible to the naked eye. Prompto was unconsciously squeezing his hand so hard that the bones in Noctis' fingers were aching, grinding into each other. With a grin, the Prince gave his partner a nudge with his shoulder.

“We're up.”

Noctis took the initiative, pulling his fiancé alongside him as they stepped into the rectangular room, a marvel of black marble architecture with domineering pillars and enormous god-like statues around the periphery. The floor, too, was glossy dark stone studded with glittering mica. The Prince led Prompto gently but firmly to a small dais at the head of the vast hall, as wordless, well-dressed staff members closed the doors unobtrusively behind them. The crowd parted for them, and those who had been sitting at the exquisitely-decorated tables stood and joined the applause.

A sea of men and women, young and old, in the most luxurious and expensive outfits rose up before them, the movement making hundreds of jewels and accessories all over the room catch the light and wink brightly. It seemed to Prompto that the weight of all those bodies and all that fabric shifting made the very air vibrate. The small chamber orchestra nestled at the far end of the hall picked up their previously-subdued background music and offered a flourishing, string-heavy welcome to the Prince and his partner, the bright and powerful tune reverberating around the hall.

The blond breathlessly hissed to Noctis as they reached the elevated stage-like platform, his voice high and a little hysterical with nerves as the Prince led him to a cluster of seats at the side of the dais.

“People were cheering, dude! These guys are more chilled than I thought, haha! And shit, you've like, got your own theme tune!”

Noctis smirked warmly and sat down upon a high-backed, ebony wood chair that was immaculately carved with bold fluting like a classical pillar, but was otherwise unadorned with any plushness or comfort. He patted the arm of the identical demi-throne next to him, and the blond sat down with a shaky exhale and wide, awed eyes. Noct laughed when he saw Prompto wince as he shifted on the solid seat underneath him.

“Digging right into my ass bones,” Prompto muttered, with a breathy chuckle. He smoothed down his scarlet suit as best as he could.

“Told you you were skinny,” Noctis shrugged, taking his hand again and giving it a squeeze. Throughout the vast hall, people had sat back down, were continuing to chatter and drink and laugh in a manner so carefree and relatable that Prompto was briefly shell-shocked. The small orchestra struck up a relaxing, mellow tune that was neither oppressively loud nor distractingly jaunty.

“...They just carry on talking? What happens now?” the blond asked, biting his bottom lip.

“You remember the order of ceremony? Dad comes in next, protocol says he always enters the room last. He'll be here soon but there's always a gap between us arriving. People probably won't cheer at that point. I'm still low-ranked and a kid in their eyes so they just whoop and do what they want,” Noctis chuckled. “Plus, look around. There's quite a few people our age here, and they're usually less formal when they're guests at these things. I know nearly all of them already. Like I said, this is to break you in gently. There are certain formalities but it's nothing like a serious meeting or political address or anything like that. If there were any members of the public here, it'd be a different story. But there aren't, so you can relax a little bit, 'kay?”

“...Do we stay up on this stage all night?” Prompto asked. He was still fizzing with anxiety, but it was now tempered with excitement alongside his original outright fear. Nevertheless, he nearly screamed when he was tapped on his opposite shoulder by Ignis, who he had forgotten about, and who was sitting in a smaller seat a short distance behind him. He whipped his head round to the advisor, and was distracted by a throb of envy when he noticed that Ignis' chair was less fancy-looking, but possessed a plump and comfortable-looking velvet cushion.

“We move down to the main floor after His Majesty arrives and the short speeches have been given. King Regis may or may not venture down. Gladio and I are required to stay near the two of you, but we won't be your shadows. You'll be free to mingle or dance as you see fit.”

At this point, Prompto twisted his head the other way and noticed the Shield for the first time, realising that Gladio, who must have arrived earlier, was mirroring Ignis. He sat slightly behind Noct and wore an impressive dark suit, looking every inch the bodyguard. Ignis appeared slightly less imposing but no less regal in a light grey suit over a pretty jade-green shirt and emerald tie.

“Oh, hey, big guy!” Prompto waved briefly, feeling a little better knowing that his friends were close by, and would remain so. “I didn't see you there, I swear I'm so frickin' nervous my eyes are short-circuiting.”

“No worries, kid,” Gladio grinned, adjusting himself in his seat and sighing at the burden of having to wear a necktie and cufflinks. “So how's engaged life treating you two? It's been a while since we were all together.”

“It's good! But I still don't think it's hit me properly yet,” Prompto laughed. He was interrupted by a server, who had appeared from nowhere and was bowing deeply. He offered a tray of tall glasses of Champagne to the esteemed group. Noctis took one first, as Prompto had learned was the rule, and then he claimed his own. After this, Ignis and Gladio were offered their own sparkling drinks.

“Well done,” the Prince said playfully to his fiancé.

“Phew! Yeah, if all else fails, just remember that Noct always comes first.”

There was an abrupt snigger from Gladio behind them, and a mischievous utterance.

“Well, stamina's not one of his strong points.”

Prompto felt a buzz of heat in his cheeks before he heard a muffled curse, and Ignis' sharp (and apparently physical) admonishment. He took the opportunity of the lull in conversation to get a proper look at the ballroom, his eyes now less fogged by his initial blinding terror. He noticed a fair number of people in the crowd giving him curious stares as politely as they could, but he didn't seem to be under the universal scrutiny that he had expected. He had also expected everybody to be dressed in fairytale-like ballgowns and elaborate costumes, but he saw mostly LBD's, elegant trouser suits, sleek prom dresses and tuxedos. One or two people looked surprisingly-underdressed, and he suspected that those were some of the highest-ranking and therefore infallible guests.

When he gazed about, he began to notice little details, like the gold filigree seams running through the dark marble of columns and candle sconces. Immense, weighty-looking white drapes hung in neat pleated banners around the borders of the room, soft and tactile. They obscured huge, black-framed windows which were shut tight against the cold November evening. The three gargantuan chandeliers hanging from the roof were grouped with multiple smaller ones, and all were dizzyingly crystalline. They dazzled him with rainbow halos and a piercing illumination that was almost painfully bright to look at. There must have been hundreds, if not thousands of glittering shards dangling from the chandeliers, and some of them looked big enough and sharp enough to cut a man in half. Prompto distractedly wondered how much damage it would do if the whole thing just _fell_, right now.

“How you doing?” Noct's familiar husky voice infiltrated his morbid reverie, making his heart pulse in fondness. Despite the echoing cacophony of tinkling glasses, rumbling conversation and the ongoing soft chamber music, they could hear each other perfectly upon the dais.

“I'm fine,” Prompto replied. “Well, mostly fine,” he laughed gently. He finally took a sip of his Champagne, swallowing it with an appreciative moan and licking his lips. “Oh _man_, that tastes good.”

“Careful, the stuff they serve can be kinda lethal,” the brunette warned, taking a daringly-long draught from his own glass, and hissing in satisfaction.

“Hey, I was thinking...after we get married, do we have to, you know, leave the apartment?” Prompto asked quietly, fearful of the answer. “That would kinda suck.”

“Uh...maybe,” Noctis said honestly. “That's just the way it goes. But we'd be totally private, have our own whole section of the Citadel. At least a whole floor or two, all self-contained. I know we're staying here tonight, but maybe we could have an extended trip here sometime before the wedding. So you can see what it's like.”

Prompto was nodding thoughtfully, when Gladio spoke up behind them. The blond twisted round to face him as the Shield leaned forward.

“Speaking of which, when's the big date? And don't think you get out of telling me all the details of how this nerd proposed,” Gladio insisted, knocking playfully on the back of Noct's seat. “Iggy's filtered version just isn't the same. All I know is that it involved chocolate. Sounds kinky.”

Prompto nearly choked on his second mouthful of Champagne, as the Prince turned coolly to face his Shield.

“Worked, didn't it?”

“We, uh, don't have a date yet. I'm not even sure we get a choice in the matter,” Prompto shrugged, once the burning bubbles had dissipated from his nose and throat.

“Of course we do. You pick the date you want, and I'll make it happen.” Noctis told him. “It's just that there's a shit-ton of planning and red tape to get through before that.”

“Language, Noct,” Ignis reprimanded. A very loud and clamorous bell rang suddenly at the edge of the room, before an abrupt ebb of noise, and then a loud silence, made the group look up in anticipation.

“Stand up,” Noctis whispered, getting to his feet. Prompto followed suit hurriedly, and noted that everybody in the room moved to their respective tables in well-practised formation. The heavy doors at the side of the hall, the same ones that they had used earlier, opened wide and King Regis strode in with a warm smile and a raised hand, trailed by Clarus, two guards and several retainers. The monarch was dressed impressively, entirely in black, with sable fur lining the collar of his light cloak and glittering rings on his bare hands.

Prompto went cold with horror when he heard Noctis begin clapping extravagantly beside him, and prayed that nobody in the crowd thought that it was him. Luckily, the applause was immediately taken up by the rest of the guests, and the band started up a bold and percussive greeting that made Prompto's ears ring. He was relieved to see his future father-in-law grin, and nod in their direction. King Regis wasted no time in traversing the room, mounting the dais, and standing before the elaborate throne that faced the hall - the loftiest position and the tallest, grandest seat in the room. His staff dispersed to the sides, alert but unobtrusive. Clarus' eyes were cool and calculating, despite the relative levity of the occasion.

Above the protracted clapping and rousing music, Noctis spoke to his fiancé, voice raised to be heard.

“Now he greets them, does a little speech. Then it's me, okay? Just like we practised.”

“Just like we practised,” Prompto whispered back, breaths becoming sharp and shaky. The knowledge that he would very soon be the centre of attention made his heart drop and his head swim like nothing else ever had. Worse than drama lessons, and school plays, worse than sports try-outs with the inexplicable but ever-present audience of unfamiliar people with nothing better to do. _Almost_ worse than plucking up the courage to talk to Noctis for the first time after his weight loss. He had things he wanted to double-check with his fiancé, but in what felt like cruelly-shortened seconds, it was silent again, King Regis was speaking, and it was nearly his turn.

_Holy shit I should _not_ be up here._

“Good evening friends, thank you for your attendance on this fine evening. Please, sit,” the King began, gesturing with his hands for the assembly to take their seats at their tables, where servers started to dart in and out with wordless humility, bowing and offering more drinks, and setting down massive silver trays of attractive canapés. There was a brief collective scrape of chairs and clink of various glasses as the crowd settled at their splendid tables, which were bedecked with solid crystal vases flourishing with fat, dark blue roses and sprays of smaller white flowers. Tall candles flamed wispily in silver holders. At the far end of the hall, the band were resting their instruments on the glossy stone floor, and raising their eyes to their monarch. Around the borders of the room, a congregation of dozens of various staff and guards stood to practised attention.

_Shit, this suit is way too bright. What was I thinking?! _

“It's a pleasure to welcome you all as my guests from far and wide, and an honour to share the purpose of this evening with you. Some of you will be familiar with the organisation that we are advocating tonight, whilst others amongst you may not only be unaware of the good works that we celebrate and aim to advance, but have indeed never visited us before in the Citadel. To those of you we offer our sincerest gratitude for your time and generosity.”

_Fuck fuck fuck_

“Whilst it is not my intention to detract too far from the main subject of these proceedings, I trust that you are all aware of one particular piece of news that is especially dear to my heart. In light of the joyous celebration of my son's engagement, and in respect to him as future ruler, I proudly introduce you to His Highness Prince Noctis, who will now elucidate you on the nature of the charitable work we are endeavouring to support tonight.”

Prompto's inner monologue of utter panic had whited-out into mute blankness by the time that King Regis took his seat with a beneficent smile and Noctis stood up with a brief bow to his father, making his way to the front of the dais with impossible coolness.

Noct had reassured Prompto that he wouldn't have to stand up or speak if he didn't want to, and right now he had just about enough mental wherewithal to be thankful for that fact. There was no avoiding, however, the billion-watt pressure and heat of the gazes of the entire room, blistering into him. He kept his head up as he had been encouraged in their practise, and tried to make sure that the clenched fists that were digging damp wounds into his palms, and the frenetic jitters that wanted to tremor out of his muscles were controlled, so that he at least _looked_ calm. He couldn't, however, do anything about the burn of a bright blush that he could feel under the skin of his face, boiling the roots of his freckles and making them invisible. His lips were dry and he could feel a bead of sweat trickling from the wilted hair at the back of his neck, but he didn't dare lick his lips or move.

The loud applause (interspersed with a few youthful whoops) that Noctis had received with a charming grin eventually died down, and he cleared his throat, though his voice was as husky as ever as he addressed the seated crowd. Prompto wondered how many people in the assembly were silently questioning his slightly-mismatched grey suit.

“Thank you all for coming, and thanks Dad, for letting me take the reins on this one. Awesome,” he said, turning briefly to nod his head to King Regis, and garnering a ripple of chuckles from the guests and his father. “Before we get to the main event, I hope you'll forgive me if I shamelessly introduce my beautiful fiancé, Prompto,” he announced abruptly, extending a hand in Prompto's direction. The immediate, resultant roar of cheers, clapping and wolf whistles stunned the blond, and his mouth fell open as he stared at the crowd, who were standing up en masse and giving him, to his disbelief, a standing ovation. On instinct, and distantly hoping he wasn't fucking up some unspoken protocol, he stood briefly on tingling, trembling legs, and bowed deeply to the crowd, who cheered every more wildly. Somewhere in the distance, a glass smashed and Prompto wondered what the hell was going on back there. Sitting back down, his limbs like jelly and his head clanging with the echoes of his applause, he smiled weakly and tried to urge himself to pass out _after_ the goddamn speeches.

Once the halloos of the frankly-delirious crowd had settled, Noctis laughed happily, his pale face wearing its own obvious blush.

“Next time I'll get _him_ to do the talking. I think he's more popular,” he jested, and was met with more heartfelt cheers and clapping. Prompto wondered if those guys could even _feel_ their hands anymore.

“I want you to make him feel welcome, I know you will. He's very special to me, and very soon I'm going to introduce him properly to everyone as future consort. We'll have a party in his honour. I'm so proud of you,” Noctis announced, meeting Prompto's wide eyes and giving him the most heart-rending, pure grin. The blond almost hid his face in his hands reflexively – that part had definitely _not_ been in the rehearsals, and he didn't know if he was feeling more overwhelmed with anxiety, or with affection.

“Now, the main reason that we're all here,” Noctis continued confidently. “Our armed forces are a symbol of peace, and loyalty, and they are a true matter of pride to this kingdom. They put their very lives on the line to protect both the royal family and Lucis' civilians. But far too many ex-servicemen and women are suffering...”

Prompto listened to the speech as raptly as he could manage, though his concentration was severely handicapped by his nervousness. His brain was playing frantic, endless renditions of all the negative things he considered the crowd might be thinking about him, in lifelike voices, even though he had never heard any of them speak. The memory of warm applause he had received only moments ago was mutated into a memory of jeers and blandishment instead – a fitting response to a plebeian, _male_ usurper to the throne.

“_Protocol dictates that they must appear to endorse your position and welcome you with celebration, but everybody is aware that they will waste no time in back-stabbing you and laughing whilst they do it,”_ Ignis' imaginary voice droned in his head.

The only time he dared to glance away from Noctis and into his own lap was because he felt warm wetness on his fingers, realising that he had unconsciously picked away enough skin on his thumb to draw blood, and his palms were close to bleeding too. He folded his hands, needing to shift in his seat to ease the ache in his pelvis from the solid wood, but he sat as still as he could.

He knew when the speech (that Noctis had written entirely by himself) was nearly at an end, because his fiancé had repeatedly practised it in front of him in the apartment over the last week, a pen in hand to scribble things out or add things in as they brainstormed it together.

“...I'm sure you'll agree that after such dedicated service, these men and women deserve everything the state can offer them to repay their faithfulness, and yet so many are homeless, alone, and suffering with physical and mental illnesses,” Noct was saying. “I hope that together we can help to lift some of the stigma, and ease some of the burden of these fine citizens. This is a cause very dear to me, and I'm sure you will help me to raise awareness of this sadly universal issue in your own states, as well as keeping Lucis' veterans in your minds tonight. I hope you enjoy the party; if you choose to make a donation, that would be greatly appreciated. All proceeds from tonight are going to the fund. Well, enough from me – have a great time guys, and thanks for listening.”

Noctis was once again met with rapturous applause, and Prompto was touched to see how fondly he seemed to be thought of by his peers. He could see why – not only was his Prince young and gorgeous, but he managed to balance a cheeky sort of humour with a real knowledge of his kingdom, maturity, and a talent for winning people over. It was a very different Noct from the introverted geek that he had befriended at school, but he supposed that two decades of regimented training had given his fiancé the confidence to not only exist in, but conquer this intimidating and alien society. Soon, he too would be immersed in it.

Prompto was relieved beyond words when the brunette sat back down beside him, a little flushed but seeming otherwise calm. The band was playing again, people were getting up from their tables with drinks, beginning to dance, chatting and laughing loudly over a sweet symphony of tinkling glass and a bassline of murmurs and footsteps and rustling apparel.

“Excellent, Noctis. It couldn't have gone better,” Ignis informed his ward with a proud smile, leaning forward and resting a hand upon Noct's shoulder.

“Thanks. Ah man, that was nerve-wracking. I'll never get used to it,” the Prince chuckled, scratching his silvery-black hair and letting out a long, shaky breath.

“You'd never know it! You looked so cool, you _owned_ that speech,” Prompto sighed, awed. “Everyone is totally in love with you, dude.”

“I think they love you too,” Noctis chuckled huskily, taking his partner's hands and squeezing them affectionately. Prompto tried not to wince as his various self-inflicted injuries stung. “Did you see how they looked at you? They were _screaming_. You are gonna have the biggest fan club, I swear,” the brunette laughed, and he gave Prompto a quick, hard spontaneous kiss.

The blond pulled a face, shaking his head playfully. “Ah, I really dunno about that. I thought I was gonna die, and I didn't even have to get up and face them. Speaking of which...can we, like, move now? This chair is evil. I can't feel my butt any more.”

“Come on, let's mingle,” the Prince agreed, helping him up and beckoning a server over for fresh drinks. Ignis and Gladio stood too, and the four of them offered each other a quick, wordless toast. They began to make the move towards the ballroom floor, the black marble shimmering with mica where it could be seen between groups of guests and under the tables that glittered with crystal, candles and silver cutlery. King Regis, however, interrupted. He was flanked by Clarus and another guard, who were both visibly armed.

The King beamed, and ruffled his son's hair, earning a yowl of indignation from the Prince.

“I couldn't have said it better myself, Noct. You did a fine job. I'm not going to stay for long, but I hope you have a good time. And don't drink too much,” he told him, gesturing at Noctis' second glass of Champagne. “Prompto, you were perfect too. I think you're going to fit right in.”

“T-thanks, your Majesty!” the blond stuttered, his voice high-pitched and eager.

“Prompto, honestly. You don't have to call me that any more. 'Dad' is fine,” Regis told him beneficently.

Prompto stared at him briefly, tears pricking his eyes without warning and making his vision blur dangerously. “...I...I don't...uh...thanks...Dad?” he tried it out, feeling dizzy. He gasped when Noctis gave him a mischievous nudge, and he felt Gladio's congratulatory hand alight heavily on his shoulder.

The King chuckled, looking pleased. “Take care, everyone. Good evening.” He turned and descended to the ballroom floor, where he was greeted with nods, bows and curtsies from everybody he passed. They watched him engage an old friend with a handshake and a brief embrace, their deep laughter echoing loudly, before Prompto took a long draught of his Champagne, cleared his throat and tugged on Noct's sleeve. Nearby, Ignis and Gladio were already conversing, sipping their drinks leisurely.

“Hey...can we chill up here just for a couple of minutes before we go down? I'm _super_ frazzled. It's been a bit stressful,” he admitted, embarrassed at the favour he was asking.

“Of course,” Noct replied, leaning in close, bumping their foreheads gently together. He didn't seem to be concerned about people observing the display of affection. If anything, he was being more publicly tactile than usual. “Are you okay? You're doing _so_ well. I'm right here with you. And we can leave any time you like. You see those tables just down there?” he asked, tilting his head towards the two largest, conspicuously empty tables right beside the dais. “They're for us and Dad. Nobody's allowed to approach the King, he has to engage them first. It's the rule because he's technically the highest-ranking person here. People of my rank or above can approach me, but even if they do, and you don't want to chat, I'll get rid of them for you.”

“Ah, I think we'd better stick around at least a little bit, haha!” Prompto laughed nervously. “But...we don't have to stay, like, _all_ night, right?” He was pretty sure he could survive another hour or two, 'mingling' notwithstanding. But he didn't think he had the emotional or spiritual fortitude to last into the small hours, in exactly the sort of social situation that he avoided like the plague when he had a choice in the matter. For all of his outward carefree cheeriness, he was and always had been deeply insecure, and it was sometimes a back-breaking, exhausting effort to try and maintain his façade for other people. The party had barely started, and he already felt drained beyond belief.

The Prince shook his head firmly. “We're never expected to stay the whole night. The staff take over when we leave. The vast majority of these people will be staying in the guest rooms in the Citadel, so they tend to stick around 'til after midnight and make the most of it. Dad'll probably be gone in half an hour. But we can leave whenever you need to. Promise,” Noct assured him, giving him another peck on the lips and sliding his free hand around Prompto's waist.

“_Noct_,” the blond chided gently. “People can see us, you know,” he squirmed, as his partner continued to coddle him. Prompto tugged slightly at his own dark shirt collar – between the scores of burning candles and the collective body heat in the ballroom he was feeling a little stifled, despite the otherwise lofty chilliness of the hall.

“I know,” Noctis shrugged. “But I also know that you're not comfortable. It's my job to look after you and make you feel better. So that means I get to kiss you. And guess what?” he added, at a conspiratorial volume.

“What?” Prompto asked cautiously. Between the grounding intensity of Noct's familiar grey-blue eyes, and the second glass of Champagne filtering into his veins, he was relaxing infinitesimally, and began to entertain hope that he could endure and maybe even enjoy the evening.

The brunette smirked knowingly, holding his partner close and leaning in to whisper in his ear, lowering his voice to a smoky, shiver-inducing tone. His warm breath stirred and dampened Prompto's fine blond hair minutely.

“As soon as we're done here, I'm gonna take you back to my old room. We're gonna draw the curtains on the bed and I'm gonna pamper you in _every way _you can think of. I'm gonna bite every inch of you and then kiss it all better. I'm gonna make love to you 'til all those worries in your head are long gone and there's nothing else to think about except you and me, hot and wet and naked in the dark,” Noct murmured, his words hoarse with arousal.

The blond shuddered, briefly and excitingly sickened with anticipation. He tilted his head and whispered back to his best friend. “...Shit, Noctis. You're lucky I'm stressed as hell and I already came this evening. Otherwise I'd be so hard, I'd be using my _dick_ as an icebreaker.”

“Only with me, I hope,” The Prince laughed warmly, kissing his fiancé's cheek and nuzzling him for a moment before pulling back, his own face tellingly flushed.

“I broke the ice with your ass a _long_ time ago,” Prompto snorted.

“So...mingling? _Without_ dicks,” the Prince suggested, grinning. “Shall we say...one hour?”

“One hour. Then it's bedtime, and I'm gonna hold you to everything you just said. By the way, how long did you rehearse _that_ little speech?” the blond teased, his bright blue eyes glowing with amusement.

“Ah, you know. A few days,” Noctis shrugged. “Being this effortlessly seductive isn't as easy as it looks.”

Ignis and Gladio's conversation was interrupted by a burst of snuffling laughter from the Prince and his fiancé as they started to descend the steps of the dais to the main floor, hand in hand. The Shield and advisor rolled their eyes simultaneously, and proceeded to follow them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got pretty long! Let's all look forward to Prompto's 'pampering' (⌐■_■)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit late! Hope everyone had happy holidays :3

Ignis stood watching Noctis chivalrously pull out a chair for his fiancé at their designated table and then get laughed at affectionately by the same man, when Gladio gave him a nudge. The gesture was gentle, but the innate strength in the arm nevertheless threatened to slosh Champagne from the elegant crystal glass Ignis was holding.

“Seems to be going alright, don't you think?” the Shield asked, taking a sip from his own glass, which appeared comically-small, cradled in his large hand. “So tell me, Ig. How do you see all of this panning out? Honestly.”

Ignis cast his gaze up towards his friend, and looked for mischief in Gladio's amber eyes. He saw only seriousness. Not raising his voice more than necessary to exceed the clamour of the ballroom guests and the band in full swing, he replied evenly.

“I don't think any of us have cause to worry, if that's what you mean. I wouldn't have told Noctis about the precedents I discovered if I didn't think he and Prompto would remain in a long-term, exclusive relationship. It seemed clear to me that Noctis had found the love of his life,” Ignis said simply, shrugging.

“You really do have a romantic streak, don't you,” Gladio chuckled fondly. “Of course, it's hidden underneath the logical streak that's about a thousand times bigger.” He surveyed the throngs of nobility that were keeping a respectable distance from the head tables, chatting and laughing loudly, drinking and partaking of the pretty canapés. The buzz of a hundred conversations over the ongoing music in the echoing hall was hypnotising.

“And that logic is precisely why I think this will all 'pan out.' I believe that many good things will come of this – it's a novel situation to be sure, but I don't think that necessarily makes it a negative one. Noctis is already doing a fine job. We have every reason to be optimistic about Lucis' future.”

“Plus Prompto hasn't had a nervous breakdown yet. That's something.”

“Quite,” Ignis smiled warmly. “I admit I did have some reservations about what his state of mind would be like tonight. He is being thrown somewhat in the deep end. But he's a fast learner, and he has all the support he needs. Besides, it's likely to be a while before Noctis actually ascends the throne. There's plenty of time for everyone, including the happy couple, to get used to things.”

“I'm not saying it's all gonna end in tears or anything. It's just, all this...it's a bit of a leap of faith into the unknown, for someone like you who relies on the evidence of his own experience so much,” Gladio remarked, adjusting his shirt for the umpteenth time. The bespoke suit, whilst it fit him perfectly, was definitely not the sort of thing he felt comfortable in or enjoyed wearing. Ignis, of course, looked effortlessly formal and stylish even when he was ill (or as near to being ill as he would ever admit). The advisor raised a playful eyebrow at him.

“You seem more concerned with how _I'm_ finding all this than the engaged couple,” he smirked. “Let's just say that I'm willing to go out on a limb because it's Noctis. It's his happiness, and personally, I think we owe him something. The risk of backlash that we are all facing is worth it to try and salvage something from the grief that came from his childhood in the royal system.”

“That's very true,” Gladio agreed. “Personally, I think it's gonna be a lot of fun,” he chuckled, finishing his Champagne and only having to nod minutely at a server before another was hurried into his hand, his old, skin-warmed glass hastily removed. “Shall we go and see how they're doing?”

* * *

The couple in question were giggling together, and not very inconspicuously. They huddled close together in their seats at the grand table, whispering and chuckling. Prompto wore an impressive blush on his face that hadn't really dissipated ever since Noctis' speech. The Prince had a protective arm resting on the back of the blond's chair, and his other hand gripped Prompto's firmly on the pristine white tablecloth.

“I don't think he's going to vanish if you let go of him,” Gladio teased the brunette, taking his designated seat heavily, whilst Ignis alighted on his own chair beside him as delicately as a bird.

“Hey guys,” Noctis greeted them, his husky voice even coarser from laughter. “Just loosening up before we go and schmooze. We're nearly ready.”

Prompto leaned across the table to the older men. “We've counted three different people in, like, flip-flops. I figured they must be super-high royalty to get away with it and Noct just confirmed it.”

“That can be our first decree,” Noct announced, raising a finger at his epiphany and flashing a rare and endearing toothy grin. “Flip-flops are not formalwear. Failure to adhere to this law will result in swift and violent execution.”

Ignis laughed along with the others, his heart warmed by the look of real peace and joy on the faces of his friends. Noctis, in particular, had almost become a different person in the last few years – a direct result of his friendship with Prompto, his _first_ real friend. Ignis supposed that it was akin to peeling off a hard, rough protective shell, and finding something soft and new and hopeful underneath. After his traumatic formative years, the Prince deserved to feel carefree and content for once. Prompto, too, seemed to be slowly overcoming some of the issues from his own adolescence.

“We can't complain about the size of their donations though,” Gladio offered, having a gulp of his drink and licking his lips.

“Yeah. I suppose we can let 'em off for tonight,” Noctis smirked, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“So, uh, all these people...they all knew about us? I guess your Dad didn't waste any time sending out the wedding invites,” Prompto laughed, a trifle nervously.

“Yeah, he couldn't wait to send out the notices to all the heads of state. He's more excited than anyone,” Noctis beamed.

“Looks like he wasn't worried about the engagement getting broken off,” Gladio chuckled, and was met with various noises of dissent from around the table.

“Don't even joke about that,” Noctis bristled. “That ring's staying on his finger if I have to glue it there myself,” he growled, jabbing a finger towards his Shield.

“Aw man, Noct, you're so cute when you go psycho,” Prompto teased. “Iggy, Gladio, you guys are my witnesses. Noct is crazy and if I ever go missing, you know who to blame.”

The Prince settled down a little, though he spared a few eye daggers for Gladio.

“Seriously though guys, I'm happy for you. And I like the rings. Let's have a proper look,” the Shield beckoned, leaning across the table to inspect the younger men's hands. “They're nice. Really...organic.”

“Right?” Prompto agreed, flashing a bright grin. “At least the _ring_ fits in with this crowd,” he shrugged sheepishly.

“Prom,” Noctis began warningly, giving his hand a quick squeeze as he sensed more insecurities surfacing.

“Well, I'm just sayin'...I mean, all these people know that I'm just a civilian, right?”

The Prince paused, but decided it was better not to lie to him. “...Yeah, they do. But it's not the first time an heir has married a non-royal,” he offered.

“Princess Amelda of a neighbouring kingdom recently married a civilian,” Ignis provided.

“Yeah, they were childhood sweethearts. Like us,” Noctis chuckled.

“Is she next in line? I mean, is she gonna be Queen?” Prompto asked, biting his bottom lip hard.

“Uh...no,” Noct admitted, taking a deep breath. “But it's not important. Seriously. These people all love you already._ I_ love you. That's the most important thing,” Noct asserted. “And you know what, breaking new ground and setting a precedent, that's never a bad thing. We'll be making _history_.”

“Yeah, you're right. I'll try and chill out a bit,” the blond nodded. “Hey, let's change the subject before I end up actually combusting from angst,” he suggested, with a sweet, self-effacing laugh. “Okay, one thing I've been wondering about. Noct, shouldn't you be wearing black?”

“It's not obligatory,” the brunette shrugged. “Believe it or not, I do actually get sick of wearing black sometimes,” he grinned. “I can't wait to see you all in black,” he mused, his voice low and murky. He startled when he realised that he had spoken aloud, and ruffled his own hair in embarrassment. “Uh, never mind.”

“Stop drooling, Prince Charmless. Speaking of which, I want the juicy details from the proposal. Give me something to work with here,” Gladio smirked, his amber eyes narrowed at Noctis, who growled subsonically in annoyance.

“Well, uh...you know the first thing he said to me after I said yes?” Prompto began.

“If it's X-rated, I think I'll pass,” Ignis said simply.

“Haha, no, nothing like that. He said 'thankyou.' Isn't that sweet?” the blond beamed, his face crinkling with happiness, distorting his blush-faded freckles.

Noctis retorted before Gladio could make any smart remarks. “Yeah, well, I thought you were gonna turn me down. You nearly killed me with the stress of it.”

“I couldn't turn you down, Iggy might have had me executed,” Prompto replied playfully.

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis spoke up, mildly alarmed at finding himself suddenly implicated in the conversation.

“That's right!” Prompto continued cheerily. “He might have come to the shop and assassinated me. Stabbed me right in the back after asking me to get bonbons from the top shelf.”

“Your paranoia is...so specific,” Noctis murmured, incredulity and deep affection in his eyes.

“It wouldn't be anything so crude, I assure you,” the advisor chipped in, slightly irked at being accused of such hypothetical misdeeds. “Broad daylight, in public? Not my style. Poison, I think, would be far more elegant,” Ignis said coolly, sipping his Champagne.

“But then everyone would think there was something wrong with your cooking,” Noctis pointed out.

The advisor paused, eyes distant. “...Yes, you're right. A conundrum indeed.”

“I guess it's a good job we make all our own food now,” Noct snorted.

“Okay guys, I was only kidding! I'd rather you didn't sit planning my murder in front of me,” Prompto chuckled, scratching his head.

“On an entirely unrelated note, what do you think of these roses?” Ignis asked, and Gladio grinned knowingly beside him.

“Uh...the blue ones? They're amazing. I didn't know they even _came_ in that colour.”

“Here we go,” Noctis said, rolling his eyes but smiling warmly.

“These,” Ignis began, one hand cupping a plump, Oxford-blue rose carefully, “are of the _Scientia_ cultivar.”

“_Sci_...you invented them?!” Prompto gasped, awed.

“No, not me,” the advisor laughed, his refined voice touched with soft pride. “My family developed this variety, many generations ago. Now they carry our name.”

“Aw, man! That's really badass. I wish I had a flower named after me,” the blond sighed, eyes sparkling.

“_I_ could name something after you,” Noctis suggested, grinning at him.

“Yeah?” his fiancé replied with cautious amusement, mirroring his playful smile. “Something like what?”

“Like...an animal shelter.” the Prince offered.

Prompto's mouth fell open slightly. He had been expecting something jokingly inappropriate, but he was moved by the genuine, quietly-excited consideration in the brunette's grey-blue eyes.

“That...that would be perfect.”

Noctis' grin crinkled a little further into fond dimples and his eyes softened in mute promise. Before either of the two young men could speak, Gladio cleared his throat, rolling his eyes extravagantly at their affectionate exchange.

“Well, now that's sorted, shall we go and make some friends, your Highnesses?”

Prompto soon snapped out of his starry-eyed reverie, scratching his stiffly-gelled hair and laughing sweetly. “Yeah, Noct has been giving death glares to anyone trying to get close to me all evening and I think his evil eye is at it's limit, so I guess it's time to be sociable. C'mon dude, schmoozing time!” He stood up, patted down his scarlet suit and picked up his glass with a hand possessing a tremble that was only slightly eye-catching.

The Prince stood, as did the two older men. Noctis nodded at his fiancé, watching the blond chuckle, silently reassured. Prompto wasn't expecting to have his face taken in two warm hands and held firmly, before his mouth was pressured with an unrelenting kiss that immediately deepened into a brief mating of wet tongues and sharpened exhales.

“Nnh...Noct,” Prompto whispered when he was released, his stark freckles once again muted by the blood in his cheeks.

“There's plenty more where that came from,” the Prince promised huskily against the blond's mouth, his arms so tight around his best friend that any idea of escape was futile. Prompto, however, was too weak-kneed and dazed by the attention to contemplate liberating himself, even as the crowd babbled and bustled and ebbed around him and the music sang in soaring echoes through the glorious ballroom.

“Promises, promises,” he managed to murmur back, biting down inadvertently on the faint freckle on his bottom lip.

* * *

It was almost two hours later that the couple finally, breathlessly, and a little drunkenly, made their way upstairs towards the Prince's childhood bedroom. They barely noticed the guard that Ignis had asked to follow them back to the room to ensure their safe encampment there, silently shadowing them at a respectable distance. The guard in question dutifully ignored the less-than-innocent banter echoing through the elegant, night-stained corridors.

The couple giggled and chatted, louder than was necessary, and certainly loud in the empty, vast and darkened hallways. Their heat-damp hands were tightly joined, the throb of the nervous wounds on the blond's hands long since diminished from his consciousness. Noctis held both of their bedraggled neckties, muttering repeatedly about how they would imminently be used, whilst Prompto trotted beside him, wheezing with giddy laughter, a huge, unopened magnum of Champagne clamped in his free hand. Unseen, the weighty bottle was forming a bruise where it kept bumping against his thigh.

* * *

When they got inside the night-cool room, Noctis pushed the heavy door shut with a bang that made them huff with laughter and swear, muffling themselves like delinquent children. A solid table lamp in a far corner that looked like it was made of black stone and which was easily half an adult's height provided the only illumination in the large, shadowed bedroom. The ceiling was high, but its pitch surface was so busy with ebony carvings and elaborate, unlit chandeliers that the room felt pleasantly close and cosy, rather than oppressively void and insensate.

“Don't I get the grand tour?” Prompto laughed huskily, glancing around the low-lit, unfamiliar space.

“Sure,” Noctis replied, giving him a brief, sloppy kiss before pulling back with a gluttonous sigh. He jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder. “There's the bed. And that's all you need to know.”

Prompto's amused protestation was smothered with another welcome snog, and he managed to blindly set the icy-wet, oversized bottle of Champagne on a side table before he dropped it.

“You were amazing tonight,” Noctis hissed against his partner's damp mouth. “So brave. _So_ proud of you. _Gods_, what you do to me...” the Prince seethed, his words devolving into guttural, impatient noises as he started whining and biting at Prompto's throat.

“B-bed, come on,” the blond managed to wheeze, one hand pushing feebly at the Prince's head, whilst his other paradoxically pulled Noct's pelvis against his own.

They made it to the stately four-poster bed with considerable stumbling, the otherwise silent twilight punctuated with sticky gasps, frantic rustles and grunts of excitement. The statuesque, roofed bed formed a silhouette so tall, solid and alien that Prompto might have been a little freaked out by it, and by the heavy drapes that formed fabric walls around it, if he hadn't been distracted by Noctis' fervent attentions. The Prince swept aside the bed's curtains and pushed him down onto his back in the middle of the firm mattress. Noct wasted no time in mounting him with a wobble, sitting astride his hips and grinding with an elaborate moan. Above Prompto, his fiancé looked spectral in the gloom, barely visible, though his distinct husky voice was unmistakable, and the hands that pushed roughly up his chest, raking back down his shirt, were deliciously familiar.

“Noct...ah, shit, how do you want it,” the blond whispered haltingly into the dark, hissing as Noctis started playfully touching himself through his straining trousers.

“I wanna top _and_ bottom,” the brunette sighed, chuckling tipsily.

“You what?” Prompto laughed back, running his palms lovingly up Noct's muscled thighs. “You want two rounds?”

“Nope. Well..._yeah_, that too. But I wanna ride you. Then I'm top _and_ bottom,” Noctis mumbled in explanation, snickering. “And tie you up. And maybe...blindfold you. Then you don't have to do a single thing and I can pamper you like you deserve. I mean...if it's okay?” he asked with cautious sweetness, lifting his left wrist, where their crumpled neckties were loosely wrapped.

“Yeah...yeah, we can definitely try that,” Prompto nodded, licking his lips unconsciously. His mouth opened slightly to speak further, but he thought better of it. His fiancé, even a little drunk and in the dark, noted his hesitation regardless.

“If you don't like it, tell me straight away, okay?” the Prince asked him in a gentler tone that clashed beautifully with the excited little heaves of his chest and his lust-flushed face.

“Yeah,” Prompto repeated breathlessly. “Have you got...stuff in here?”

Noctis grinned smugly, clearly pleased with himself about something.

“Check this out. I made a little detour earlier.” The Prince swept aside the weighty bed curtain once more and leaned awkwardly to the ancient-looking bedside table. He pointed to two big bottles of water on its surface, and then shifted forward so he could pull out the massive, noiseless drawer. He retrieved a handful of titillating-looking products with a groan, and then reclaimed his perch upon Prompto's crotch, giving a hard grind against his partner's dick for good measure. He brandished the lubricant and a few other mystery bottles, wiggling them playfully. “We're all set.”

Noctis put down the lotions and carefully grasped Prompto's slim wrists, overlapping and lifting them. He pressed them back illustratively against the carved hardwood of the bedframe, where intricate mahogany formed deep loops and botanical-looking whorls that would make perfect anchors for the blond's bindings.

“Trust me?” the brunette whispered into the empty, cool, silent night.

“Always,” Prompto replied, barely a breath of a word, and he meant it one hundred percent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is pure pr0nz. ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪♬
> 
> A/n - a friend of the family wore flip-flops to my sister's wedding and I nearly decked him. XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up, this chapter is probably the porniest thing I've ever written (≧◡≦) ♡ 
> 
> Also, FYI, I am likely to be writing this fic pretty much until the end of time, even if nobody reads it, because it's just too much fun (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ 
> 
> Lastly, I hope everyone is safe and well, and remains so :3
> 
> ~*~*~*~

Noctis settled himself more comfortably upon Prompto's crotch, grinding his pelvis there with a husky, playful laugh. The blond, uncertain of what he should do, kept his hands up at the ornately-carved bedhead; his knuckles rested somewhat tensely against hard, deeply-scored and artful wood.

The Prince leaned down and started suckling roughly at his throat with an indulgent sigh, and Prompto shivered both from the coolness of the night-darkened room, and the sting of air against his wet skin every time Noctis pulled back briefly for breath. The brunette's kisses and hard sucks felt wonderfully entitled and possessive. With almost telepathic perfectness, Noct moved to a virginal new spot of flesh when the one he had been worshipping in the gloom became bruised and sore.

Inevitably, the Prince had soon completely claimed and marked the warm flash of skin that was available to him, and was impatient for more.

“Wanna get naked?” he chuckled dirtily, lips and tongue still relentlessly molesting his fiancé's neck with heat and wetness.

“Y-you really have to ask?” Prompto whispered, eyes lightly closed and lips parted, his Adam's apple bobbing sweetly as he swallowed, and providing an inviting target for the Prince. Noctis dutifully kissed it, and then pulled back with a loud sigh that sounded expectedly mischievous.

“Keep your hands up,” he ordered, as if Prompto had any intention of doing otherwise. “I'm just gonna unbutton your shirt. I want you to keep it on.” Noctis' dark eyes flashed with something predatory, his breath hitched, and he cleared his throat. “I want you to keep everything on,” he announced.

Prompto, getting desperate and therefore rapidly devolving into utter compliance, shrugged as best he could, laughing breathlessly. “Sure. Whatever you want, Noct.”

The Prince nodded at the confirmation that he had clearly been expecting, and picked open the shell-coloured buttons of his fiancé's steely grey shirt. Easing aside the luxuriant fabric, he allowed himself to observe the theatre of warm skin before him. It comprised the damp and mouth-bruised throat, a lean, toned chest with candy-pink nipples, a concave stomach dusted with little freckles, and sharp, sleek hipbones.

Before he got to work, Noctis leaned forward once more for a gluttonous kiss on the mouth that sparkled and fizzed like the Champagne they were both heady with. The brunette moaned as he sucked upon his fiancé's tongue, as if he was ingesting something sacred. Prompto's fingers curled with the desire to reach down and stroke through Noct's baby-soft hair, but he managed to resist, breathing hard in the gloom. There was the briefest of night-cool seconds between the Prince pulling away from him with a smack of lips, and a black eyemask being plucked from a prominence on the bedstead, and dangled illustratively before him.

“Head up,” Noct urged, and Prompto obeyed, the tight, silky sleep-mask soon snug around his skull. There was a pleasant, gentle pressure on his eyes that was almost comforting, and he allowed himself a few moments to get used to the stifling darkness of his vision. The last thing he had seen was his fiancé's cool-hot expression, and the altitudinous wood of the bed's roof. He had never _seen_ a four-poster like this before (except illustrations in fairytale books as a child), let alone laid down in one. And now, he was about to make love in one.

“Everything okay?” came Noctis' voice nearby, and Prompto shivered at the unexpected hand that alighted on his bare belly and rubbed reassuringly.

The blond chuckled softly. “Ah – I'm okay. This is kinda...novel. But these pants need to come off like, yesterday,” he teased, the need to alleviate the fabric tightness around his erection quickly becoming urgent. It felt bizarre to be talking to Noct when he couldn't see him. The brunette's reply seemed to filter to him through some sort of interspatial veil.

“Soon,” came the husky promise.

Prompto couldn't help but squeak out a noise of agitation when he heard Noctis getting undressed, the other man's weight shifting and pushing deliciously upon him as he raised up onto his knees and adjusted one leg at a time to facilitate the movements, with deafening rustles of fine fabric.

“This is cruel,” the blond grinned. He hissed happily when he felt the Prince finally undo and tug down his tight scarlet trousers and underwear, but only to mid-thigh. He assumed that that was what Noctis meant by 'keeping everything on,' and he tingled with a thrill of anticipation at the thought of being ridden whilst essentially clothed.

Immediately afterward, a distinctly bare, warm backside settled snugly down upon the top of his naked thighs.

“...You completely nude, dude?” Prompto laughed, biting his lip, eyes crinkling unseen behind his mask.

“Feel for yourself. Before I tie you up,” Noctis told him, a smirk in his voice.

The statement was so matter-of-fact that Prompto physically shivered, and he heard the Prince snuffle with appreciative laughter when he noticed. The blond moved his hands, which were a little tingly with pins-and-needles from being held up, in the direction of his unseen partner. His fingers bumped gently against a warm sternum, and he immediately splayed his digits and mapped Noctis' chest with fond familiarity. He heard the brunette lean closer and he echoed the Prince's chuckle when he felt baby-soft black hair brush his forehead playfully, a tipsy Noct obviously rocking his head back and forth to tickle him.

“Dork,” Prompto told him affectionately, before he let his hands slide around Noct's warm sides, feeling hints of rib, silently thrilling in the vital expansion of his lungs, the burn of each resultant exhale against his face. “Love you,” the blond stated spontaneously.

“Love you too,” Noct murmured back, not missing a beat, and a smile audible in his voice.

Prompto smoothed his palms up to the Prince's shoulderblades, and strong trapezius muscles, and then down with confident, unspoken permission to his fiancé's old scar. It was a smooth wound with a jagged shape, and the slightly-raised keloid flesh felt almost damply-soft under his fingertips. Noctis didn't flinch when Prompto thumbed the mark that he knew to be reddish-dark, and shaped like a visceral streak of lightning, crooked and asymmetric across his spine.

Paying the damaged skin no more or less attention than anywhere else, the blond proceeded easily, massaging the back of Noct's neck and smoothing away the long dark hair at his nape, then sightlessly going for his backside, squeezing his ass cheeks hard and giving an appreciative little noise in the gloom.

“Yup. Definitely naked,” the blond snickered, eyes wrinkling merrily under the mask.

“Have you felt enough?” Noctis asked, walking his fingers up Prompto's bare belly to watch him twitch. That was where the blond's own scars resided, a girdle of faint, spidery-thin white stretch marks.

“I'm ready. Tie me up,” Prompto commanded, his voice cracking with surprising sultriness.

A small, pleased hum was his reply, and without further ado, Noctis took hold of his partner's slim wrists and spent a minute tying each of his arms separately to two solid-hewn floral spokes on the bedstead. Once he was secure, Prompto tested his fabric bonds and nodded unconsciously.

“Not too tight?” Noctis queried, his hands back at the blond's chest, his thumbs pushing repeatedly over the firm bumps of pink nipples.

“S'fine,” Prompto replied. The slim ties weren't digging into his skin, but they didn't feel like they would come loose, either. He twiddled his fingers a little, anticipating numbness before very long. He abruptly shocked out a loud moan when he felt Noctis take hold of his bare cock and give the hot flesh a few strokes. The blond immediately bit his lip. Despite his admitted lowered inhibitions and buzzed excitement from the amount of Champagne they had drunk, he was becoming conscious of the fact that not only were they not at home, they were in the freaking _Palace_, in Noct's childhood bedroom, and there were probably guards right outside the door. Fiancés or not, tonight was _not_ a good night for a wild screaming session.

He assiduously held his breath as he heard Noctis squirt something liquid from one of the plastic bottles he had exhibited earlier. The slick sound of the Prince warming the oily substance between his palms was nearly unbearable, and seemed twenty times louder in the sightless darkness. As the brunette grasped Prompto's erection again and continued to pump him, smoothing his index finger gently across his slit, it was all he could do to stay quiet, merely twitching and writhing at the incredible sensations.

“Prom? Prom,” Noctis insisted, pausing his ministrations. Prompto took the opportunity to exhale breathlessly.

“Yeah?” he panted, wondering if his partner had changed his mind about the bondage.

“You don't need to keep quiet. I want to hear you.”

Prompto instinctively began to deny the allegation, but thought better of it – Noctis knew him far too well to believe otherwise. “....But someone's bound to hear us...”

“Listen,” came Noct's husky voice. “I know that guy followed us to make sure we got to the room okay...but I already told the guards to clear the floor once we were in. You can be as loud as you want,” he murmured, and Prompto almost sobbed in relief and excitement.

“_Fuck_, Noctis...”

He was gratified to hear his partner's deep little chuckle at hearing the rare use of his full name.

“I'm getting myself ready now,” the Prince then announced calmly, and the blond heard him pick up his bottle once more, and further slippery, lusciously-suggestive sounds assaulted his hyper-sensitive hearing.

“You're killing me, dude,” Prompto sighed, resting his head back on the pillow and doing his best to steady his rampant respiration, determined to try and make this last as long as possible. Whilst he listened to mysterious wet sounds that practically glistened in his mind's eye, the blond experimentally pushed his hips up. Noctis' solid weight was heavy upon him, and he could feel the wonderful heat of the Prince's groin against his own. He sensed slight, stuttered movements, and recognised the moment when his fiancé penetrated himself by the soft, guttural sigh that shivered out into the cool air somewhere above him, and Noct's bracing thighs making the bed squeak.

“You...” Prompto began, and then trailed off, not knowing what he was trying to vocalise, but aware that it was something deliriously infatuated. He inconspicuously tested the range of movement of his legs, but the fabric of his trousers was tight and restrictive around the middle of his thighs. He wasn't going to have much leeway to move, and certainly not to spread his legs and thrust, especially with his wrists bound. This was going to be _intense_.

“You sure you got the energy to do all the work?” Prompto teased, biting his lip again as he listened to Noctis finger himself. He shuddered reactively when he felt a warm rivulet of pre-come ooze from his own tip and ticklingly traverse his swollen shaft, cooling his flesh as it went.

Since Noct didn't make any smart remarks about this event, Prompto assumed the Prince had his eyes closed and hadn't noticed. The blond heard the little wet click of Noct's grin before he replied.

“Maybe I'll just take it nice and slow.”

“Then I'm gonna die in this weird-ass bed,” Prompto chuckled breathlessly, his hips undulating minutely of their own accord as he sought the relief and pleasure of penetration with his partner.

“You were incredible tonight,” Noctis went on, murmuring almost to himself. His breath crackled as it became more laboured, and Prompto could sense the Prince's self-pleasuring gradually becoming more aggressive; those rhythmic, frictionless, oily sounds were driving him mad. Prom's fingers were starting to throb from the blood that was being lost to gravity, though he barely had time to acknowledge this as his fiancé continued praising him in a strained voice.

“Everybody loves you. But not as much as I do,” Noct sighed, and the blond heard him prime his own cock with a slick hand, before his weight shifted, the bed creaking and sinking. Prompto's head smacked back into the fat pillow as he felt his partner sink down onto him with a shaky exhale, strangling him with glorious, burning wet heat. Noctis was no sooner fuller seated and trembling slightly, than Prompto's hands automatically flew forward to hold and anchor and comfort him, but his fabric fetters prevented this with a surprising jolt.

“_Noct_,” he whined instead, finding that he could barely even move his hips with the Prince's considerable lean weight pressing down upon his pelvis, and without leverage from his own restricted legs. His fingers curled with frustration, and he wished that he could see his partner to gauge his status. “Noct, you okay?” he asked, trying not to sound unnecessarily concerned.

“_So_ good...you feel so _fucking_ hard in me,” Noctis keened shamelessly, and Prompto felt his face tingle with abrupt blushes. _Well then. _The Prince was rarely this chatty in bed – vocal, yes, and prone to all kinds of wonderful, animalistic groans and yells (particularly when he was receiving), but rarely indulging in dirty talk. Prom supposed that he had the alcohol to thank for this unexpected treat.

“Gods, please don't wait too long,” Prompto panted, licking his lips and enduring the visceral pulses of Noct's body around him, the brunette's heartbeat pounding within smothering, slippery heat.

“Mmm,” the Prince's ambiguous reply groaned out, before Prompto felt him begin to rock, and then gingerly bounce a a few inches, his husky exhales immediately becoming rasping and loud. It seemed that Noct didn't need much prep, because in seconds the blond felt his powerful weight thudding down onto his pelvis and then lifting off boldly, their skin slapping together deafeningly.

Noctis began a punishing pace, and Prompto agonised in the darkness of his mask and the restraints of his arms and legs, mouth wide open as he frantically tried to breathe and endure the bliss of his fiancé's wild body and mind-blowingly loud and indulgent moans.

“_Prom...fuck, yes, Prom_!” Noctis was sobbing pornographically, his hot and sticky palms pressed against the blond's torso for support as he slammed his hips as hard as he could, and it wasn't long before the sweet smell of his sweat and the tactile sheen of his skin evidenced his efforts.

Through the exquisite pain of his pleasure, Prompto had the flash of conviction that whatever Noctis was feeling, it couldn't be as good as his own suffering. He whined and shuddered, his teeth gritted hard, almost panicking as he felt angry and premature throbs of climax threatening, and he clenched his bloodless fists and fought to stave off his orgasm, barely succeeding.

As the Prince rode ever harder in Prompto's sightless periphery, that smoky voice ceased to speak and merely wheezed and gulped and panted in exhaustion. Droplets of sweat fell onto Prompto's bare stomach and chest, surprising him with little stings, like hot wax. The sturdy bedframe made small achy sounds with the strain of the two men fucking upon it, and the plump mattress echoed it with tired squeaks and thumps.

After the blond had listened dizzily to Noctis gasp and struggle for a while, he twitched his numb fingers unconsciously, desperate to touch his lover, whose lithe and frenzied body was practically steaming on top of him and bruising him with his wild weight.

Even as Prompto fought his turmoil, loathe to disappoint his fiancé by requesting his liberation, a rapid fear began to taunt him, and before he knew it, he was on the verge of panic. He couldn't see Noctis or hear his voice, and he was overwhelmed by the irrational, crazy idea that maybe some stranger had impossibly replaced him in the unseen dark.

“Noct! Noct, I don't like this,” he finally relented with breathless insistence, wrists tugging sharply at his bonds.

Prompto was eternally, _massively_ relieved to hear his partner's familiar voice.

“What? What don't you like?” Noctis was asking urgently, his movements halted, his body trembling bravely with the monumental effort of pausing.

“Please, untie me. I want to touch you...And I need to see you,” the blond admitted, feeling inordinately ashamed. He flinched when, seconds later, Noct's hands shakily pulled at the ties around his wrists – the Prince's fingers were burning hot; wet and wrinkled like he had just gotten out of a bath. As soon as his tingling hands were free, Prompto grabbed Noct's damp waist with a groan of relief. When the sweat-warmed eyemask was pulled off of his head, Prom felt like he had been gifted pure, fresh air and crystal-clear sight. The Prince, with lust-sleepy eyes and soaking-wet black hair slicked on his forehead, was gazing down at him in worry. He looked absolutely _stunning_.

“Are you alright?” Noctis whispered hoarsely, his voice brusque with concern. His skin was burnished-pink with exertion, glowing with hot perspiration.

_Thank Gods,_ Prompto thought vaguely. He nodded to his fiancé. “Kiss me. Then I'll take over. You look exhausted,” he chuckled wheezily.

Noctis laughed too, teeth flashing sweetly as he conceded this, and leaned forward for a scorching, sloppy kiss. Their bodies were still connected, sharing a blistering heat. “I'm nearly there. Don't go easy on me.”

“Never,” Prompto promised, finally shimmying down his trousers far enough to spread his legs and get some leverage, delighting in watching Noct's naked form shift and lean to accommodate his movements. “Hold on tight.”

His damp hands clamped around the Prince's hips tightly, his partner's skin frictionless with sweat. Bracing his feet on the body-heated bed, Prompto took a deep breath of sex-scented air, and started pistoning into his lover as hard as he could.

The Prince rewarded him with a barked yell of surprise and thrill, the grey-blue eyes immediately squinching tightly closed and his mouth falling open in joyful anguish. Prompto had plenty of energy to spare, and he channelled it entirely into pleasuring his fiancé, putting it to use with vicious thrusts that were as calculated as he could manage in his current delirium of arousal.

Giddy with Champagne and totally dishevelled, Noctis threw his head back and endured every deep push, expending energy only to yell out or to twitch his pelvis into a better position to service his prostate.

“Noct, m'close,” Prompto soon whined breathlessly, still pounding up into his partner with enviable stamina. The Prince's head was now lolling forward, and he let out wretched little sobs as he was driven close to his own peak, his glossy cock glittering with a lacquer of pre-come and totally untouched. Noct's hands were flat and grasping on Prompto's chest, raking little pink marks and making tiny troughs in the sweat-sheen that covered his torso.

“_Prom...ah, Prom, fuck...yes...yes_!” the brunette repeated, over and over, careless with tipsiness and getting dizzy and loud with his imminent orgasm, voice raising higher and tighter as he was bounced easily in Prompto's damp lap.

The blond only teased him once, stopping his movements long enough to see Noct's face crumple with shock and despair. He wanted the gluttonous pleasure of seeing the Prince beg and squirm and struggle for release. Noctis had not disappointed him, grinding out his name, expletives and pleas from a sore and tired throat.

Finally, mercifully, things came to an explosive end. Noct's slim and muscled body, which had been shuddering with violent spasms as his climax neared, finally went stock-still; he threw his head back with a sprinkle of sweat, and screamed. His nails scratched reactive, blood-damp marks into Prompto's chest, and his powerful, hands-free ejaculation splashed audibly and copiously onto his partner. Prompto gasped as he was squirted with hot and musky seed, and watched his partner's incredible climax before he himself succumbed. As his muscles all stiffened in tandem, limbs clenching and his thoughts whiting out, he felt like there was ice and lava in his veins as he squeezed out a shattering, utterly-draining orgasm.

They both twitched and groaned and jolted out their climaxes, dripping sweat from wilted, soaked hair and steaming skin. When they disengaged, it was quick, and painful for Noctis, who collapsed in a loose, sprawling dead weight beside the blond, face-down in a pillow. Prompto rested his eyes and let his body accept that it could now recover, and merely listened to his own thundering heartbeat and raucous breathing for a few minutes. Noctis was shivering and spread-eagled beside him, moaning faintly into the pillow that he had melted into.

Prompto realised, after some time, that he was falling asleep, and he forced his eyes open in the languid dimness, turning over with a sharp complaint of tortured muscles, to face his prone lover.

“Noct? You alive?” he croaked, grinning helplessly.

The Prince turned his head and took in a wheezy, comically-vast inhale, letting it out in a sleepy sigh.

“No.”

“Me neither,” Prompto chuckled, resting one hand on his fiancé's cooled, but still-slippery shoulder. “Can you lift up a bit? Let's have some water and wipe up and _then_ we can pass out. You'll get a chill if you sleep like that.”

With much delay and husky complaining (and cooing from a sympathetic Prompto), Noctis was cleaned up and hydrated, before the blond permitted himself to do the same, stripping his soiled suit with relief. Eventually, they ended up dry and warm and completely wiped out, under comfortingly-heavy dark bedcovers.

“I think that was the craziest ever,” Noctis said weakly, his arm hooked across Prompto's stomach and his head buried against the blond's throat, where a gentle pulse lulled him into a sweet and happy calm. “I doubt even our wedding night is gonna top that.”

“I'm almost scared to think about that,” Prompto admitted, sighing in bliss and rubbing Noct's forearm as he stared up thoughtfully through night-cool, gloomy shadows at the carved ceiling of the bed. “Maybe we should buck the trend and _not_ have sex.”

“...Nah,” the Prince disagreed with sleepy evenness. “Let's not do that.”

They both giggled and chatted a little longer, their bodies gradually beginning to recover as their thoughts lapsed peacefully into silence, and they fell asleep together, loosely entwined in a dreamless slumber.

~


End file.
